Livewyre
by semicolonial
Summary: The Asahinas thought they had their hands full with their mother remarrying Rintarou Hinata, author of Livewyre: Japan's hottest graphic novel series. But they never expected Ema, Livewyre's heroine, to appear living and breathing before their eyes. With the world of Livewyre slowly coming to life, how can the brothers handle falling for a girl who's desperate to get back home? AU.
1. Prologue

**(cue beatboxing)**

 **Anyways, welcome to this brand new story:** ** _Livewyre_** **! This is probably going to be the most meta thing I'll ever write, but hey, the idea struck me. This plot is veeeeerrrryyyy loosely based off the KDrama** ** _W_** **, which, thus far, I have only seen three episodes of. Anywho, please, please, please leave your thoughts in the reviews! This first chapter is a rocky trial run to see if anyone is interested in this at all. I hope you guys enjoy!**

 **Summary: The Asahinas thought they had their hands full with their mother remarrying Rintarou Hinata, author of Livewyre: Japan's hottest graphic novel series. But they never expected Ema, Livewyre's heroine, to appear living and breathing before their eyes. With the world of Livewyre slowly coming to life, how can the brothers handle falling for a girl who's desperate to get back home? AU.**

* * *

 _livewyre. / prologue._

 _8/31/2016_

* * *

The air thrummed with electricity as a lightning storm brewed overhead. Gray clouds rolled shadows along the dreary streets, blanketing skyscrapers and reflecting along mirror-coated windows. Along the sidewalks, onlookers liberated their umbrellas as rain began to tap at the oil-slicked roads of the city.

In one particular building, a fresh-faced prosecutor leapt to his feet. Gathering his papers, he licked his lips hungrily, teeth gleaming winningly at his superiors. As a young shark fished straight out of law school, he was eager to win his first big case: the trial of Ema Chiyaka.

"Your Honor, counsel, and Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury; I intend to prove without a shadow of a doubt that the charges against the accused are _true_ in nature, motive, and method." The blazing-eyed prosecutor paced across the floor before straightening and pointing one bony finger at a seated young girl.

" _This_ woman committed the worst possible crime: murder of her mother and father, cold-blooded murder against those she called family. And why? Why else, but to inherit their company? You just couldn't wait, could you, Miss Chiyaka?" He braced his hands against the witness stand and leaned forward, his animalistic breath grazing across the girl's face.

She released one small, choked sob. "No! I didn't do it. They were my familiy; I loved them. I don't want the company. I just want my parents back."

Conflicted murmurs whispered through the audience. The girl was tiny, slender; only sixteen years old and on trial for murder. Her hair fell loose and matted along her shuddering shoulders. Such a pretty face, and such bloody hands to go with it.

The prosecutor slammed a fist on the mahogany before the defendant, causing her to jump in fear. "Don't lie! The evidence against you is incriminating, and _you_ are the only one with a motive. How could the knife have ended up with your fingerprints, in your room? Who else could have made it past your family mansion's state of the art security? Why would anyone want to kill your parents, if not for their wealth and empire?"

"I don't know!" Ema moaned helplessly. "I was at the hospital on a ski trip when it happened..."

"Ah, but you had been discharged _before_ that," the prosecutor hissed, certain that he had finished her. "And your friends say that you went home the minute you left, giving you plenty of time to make it home, stab your parents _three_ times each, and then stash the knife, isn't that right, Chiyaka?"

"No! No, no, no—"

"Disgusting," the prosecutor snarled. "You can't even own up to it, even now. And if—"

"That's enough," the judge chastised. "Sir, please save the aggression for the interrogation room. Right now you should be _questioning_ your witness."

The prosecutor, immediately humbled, threw a single friendly smile the judge's way and an apologetic one to the seasoned partners at his new law firm. And despite the humorous charm in his eyes when he turned back to Ema, the wolf that lurked beneath his skin waited for the opportunity to snap its teeth.

"My apologies," he dripped, "And of course, my apologies extend to the court as well."

"Proceed, sir," the judge hid the roll of her eyes. She had dealt with overzealous new lawyers before; it was impossible to get anything done with them bootlicking their superiors and bootstepping their inferiors. "And _please_ , question your witness _correctly_."

"Of course," the prosecutor amended hastily. "Miss Chiyaka. Your parents were murdered last month, three stab wounds in one perfect, straight line directly beneath their ribcages. According to the autopsy, they were killed mere hours after you returned from a ski trip. You have no alibi, is this correct?"

"I _do_ have an alibi," Ema insisted, flinching away when the prosecutor's eyes flared in irritation. "I veered off the slope on the ski trip and had only just gotten out of the hospital, so my father's bodyguard, Shinozuka Daisuke, had to drive me home. When I got there, I saw my parents dead and ran to them first thing. That was when I screamed."

The prosecutor turned to the court, a "can you believe this girl?" look on his face as if sharing an inside joke with old friends. The judge once again hid her exasperation at his lack of professionality, instead prompting for him to continue with his questioning.

"I see," the prosecutor mused, stroking his chin sagely. "And that was when...?"

"That was when a friend of mine, Ritsurisu Juli, entered the room and panicked. Then he called the ambulance, but it was already too late." She choked, but cleared her throat and continued. "The police made up their minds to blame me from the start. There isn't any solid evidence that I did it."

"And until you provide evidence that you _didn't_ ," the prosecutor growled softly, "The autopsy says that you _did_."

"You want evidence?"

The prosecutor and witness jumped at the new voice and the room turned to the looming figure standing at the pristine double doors to the courtroom. His face, as stern and handsome as a stone guardian, twisted into sharp lines and hard edges far more imposing than the prosecutor's false wolfishness. A black jacket over a black dress shirt tucked into black pants wove him into the shadows as he swept down the aisle in long and precise strides. He halted before the judge and one muscular arm brandished a polished folder before the audience.

"Here's your evidence."

He threw it in the direction of the prosecutor, whose face had blanched in fear of the folder's contents. "Your Honor, I object to this sudden and violent outburst! How can we even know this... _man_... is trustworthy? Who is he anyway, to—"

"Shinozuka Daisuke!" The man snarled. As if realizing how loudly he had spoken, he said more softly, albeit just as dangerously, "The bodyguard in question."

If the prosecutor was a shark before, he was now a goldfish in the face of the tall newcomer. Despite his stammering protests, the judge leaned forward, eager for Shinozuka to continue.

"I have proof that Miss Ema Chiyaka _could not_ have committed the murder of her parents. In this folder is hospital records showing that Miss Chiyaka left the hospital only moments before the fatal stabbing of her parents. It would have been impossible for her to have made it home quickly enough to kill her parents and stash the weapon. Your Honor, also note the footage, both with the date and time, directly from the source of the Chiyaka Mansion's security system. The late Mister Chiyaka installed hidden cameras all over his home for situations such as this, and as you can see, one of the cameras clearly shows a hooded figure leaving through the back door as Miss Chiyaka enters the front door. This trial of Miss Chiyaka is _nothing_ but framed and manipulated, all to hide the identity of the _real_ killer!"

A panicked uproar gripped the court, and the first strike of lightning flared overhead to seep through the windows and illuminate the heads of the audience.

"Order!" The judge cried, thudding her gavel upon the podium. "Order in my court!"

Ema nearly melted with relief, clasping her hands in front of her as grateful tears streamed down her face. Daisuke's eyes lit up with pride as the judge called for the chaos to silence.

"That is enough! Bailiff, uncuff the witness, and counselors, report back home. Miss Chiyaka,"

Ema sucked in a breath of anticipation.

"You are free to go."

Cheers shook the courthouse as Ema broke into sobs, her small body scooped up into a crowd of larger ones. News reporters converged on the bodyguard, begging for answers as to how he knew to look for the hidden cameras, how he knew Ema Chiyaka was innocent, and most importantly, what his relationship was with the newly-acquitted heiress. Friends and family gathered the pair into teary hugs, cupping Ema's face in their hands and whispering how happy they were that she was finally, _finally_ free.

But in one dark, shadowy corner of the courtroom, a figure seethed in rage at the liberation for the innocent girl.

* * *

 _Two Years Later_

"Ma'am!"

Ema looked up from her cell phone to the man running frantically to her.

"Ma'am!" He cried again, tripping over his shoelaces and falling into Ema's arms, where she chuckled fondly.

"Kichiro-san, you need to be more careful. What do you need?"

"Ma'am," he repeated, "Where are you going? To get coffee? I need to remind you, you have an appointment today, today at three o'clock, three o'clock _sharp_!"

Ema blinked at him, before registering what he was saying and nodding in remembrance. "Oh, that's right. Thank you, Kichiro-san. I really do mean it when I say that my number one reason for keeping appointments is because you keep them for me. I tell everybody that, in fact. I don't know what I'd do without you."

The man brimmed with pride at his boss's praise, and Ema smiled and patted his shoulder.

Aisaka Kichiro: Ema's most trusted and organized secretary. Like the rest of the staff, he had worked for her parents in the years before their death. He was thin and flighty, with a big pair of thick-rimmed glasses sitting high on the bridge of his nose. More often than not, Ema worried more for his health than his position at the company, forcing him to take days off when his cheeks became too sunken or his hands became too shaky.

And with a quick glance at him, she decided that he needed another vacation.

"Kichiro-san, before I go, I need to ask if you want to take a break."

"N-no, ma'am! Especially after all that you just said, that is, what you said about me keeping your appointments! I do keep your appointments, most of them in fact, and you have so, so many over this next week I couldn't possibly consider leaving you in this time of trouble. Not only do you have more appointments than usual, but you have _nearly fifty_! Fifty, ma'am! First you have that meeting with the future CEO to Domino, and then the vice president of ElectricDen, and then you have to induct the interns who—"

"Aisaka-san," a deep voice cut in, and Ema's muscles relaxed the tension she hadn't even realized was building up. "Juli-kun and I can handle it. Your CEO says to go home."

Kichiro, shrinking away at the order, nodded once, and Daisuke turned to Ema.

"Hello."

"Hi," she responded, smiling up at him. "Thank you for getting him off my back."

Daisuke shrugged, embarrassment creeping across his face as he guided her through the maze of cars in the parking garage. "He means well."

Ema nodded pensively at him. "Yes, I suppose he does. But I do still need to thank you. It seems like you're always getting me out of situations like this."

Daisuke coughed awkwardly as a blush became more prominent on his high cheekbones, and he brought one hand up to play with the dark hair sweeping over his eyes. Both of them knew it was true; from the smallest things like getting her away from Kichiro to the largest ones like getting her away from jail, it seemed like the towering young man had spent more of the past two years getting her out of her troubles than he did his own.

And for that, Ema couldn't be more grateful.

He hadn't changed at all since the day he provided evidence for Ema's trial. Now a handsome twenty-year-old, he was one of Ema's closest friends and confidants, as well as her full-time bodyguard. After the trial, the man had made it his duty to protect the daughter of his late employer, and had done so magnificently. He had achieved the highest rank in four types of martial arts and was proficient in firing guns; however, most importantly to Ema, he wasn't as well-verse with handling knives. Standing at well over six feet, Daisuke was a formidable presence that radiated pure, unadulterated prowess. His daunting height and silence often scared away the most confident of employees, but to Ema, there was no greater comfort than to feel the calm shadow of her best friend standing nearby.

"Get in the car," Daisuke ordered simply, holding the door open for her with one hand and tapping away at his phone on the other. He slid into the driver's seat and clicked his seatbelt into place, waiting till Ema had done the same before starting the car. "Juli-kun, Ryuji-kun, and Nanami-chan are coming to coffee as well."

"They are?" Ema asked incredulously.

"I didn't invite them. They invited themselves."

"Ano, I suppose they can come. It was just coffee, and I haven't talked to most of them in a while."

Daisuke grunted in response as he pulled out of the parking complex and into the bright daylight. He drove in comfortable silence, listening to Ema as she mused about her company: Livewyre.

He had to admit that Ema was more proficient than even her father was in running the booming electronics empire. At eighteen, she was already the face of business magazines not only across Japan, but all over the globe. She cared about her employees, and they, in turn, cared about her. After the death of her parents, Livewyre's assets had nearly been dissolved and redistributed to other big buyers. But with quick thinking, even through all her grief and trauma, Ema had transferred ownership to herself and her employees, buying back the company her father had given so much for. Through hard work and sheer determination, she'd expanded the company exponentially till it was even bigger than it had been in the first place.

And as Daisuke always tried to tell himself, he held nothing but respect for her because of that.

"Daisuke, you passed the coffee shop."

The young man whipped the steering wheel into a quick u-turn while Ema nearly hit her head against the window. The only betrayal to his mortification was the red that stained the tips of his ears, and Ema, noting this with a giggle, reached out to flick one of them as she teased,

"Don't be embarrassed. But I have to admit, it's not really like you not to pay attention."

Again, the only response she received was a grunt, but as usual, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Once Daisuke shifted the car into park, he moved around the front of the car to help Ema out of her seat. Through the window, she could see her three friends already seated and nursing their own mugs of coffee.

"Hi, everyone," Ema greeted as she pulled up a chair, smiling softly at them while Daisuke moved to sit at a table nearby.

"None of that, now." One of her friends, Nanami, scolded Daisuke sternly and caught him by the black sleeve of his suit jacket. Throwing him into a seat beside Ema, she greeted the two as formally as ever. Ema smiled brightly while Daisuke murmured his hellos.

Nanami was, to Ema, the most beautiful girl she'd ever met. Her eyes were long and shaped like almonds, a butterscotch gold in color and almost sharper than her wit. Her face was angular, framed by sheets of pin-straight brown-black hair. She was clever and honest and fiercely loyal; sometimes, Ema found herself awestruck at how handsome of a couple her best friend and her bodyguard would make together. But besides shared glances and secretive smiles, the two never cared much for each other. Romantically, that was, though to Ema's knowledge, they'd shared at least one night together, which was incentive enough for her to root for them gently from the sidelines.

As if noting the direction Ema's thoughts had taken, Daisuke kicked her ankle underneath the table and shot her a warning glance. She'd told him once her opinion on him and Nanami. He'd promptly paled and gone outside for fresh air.

 _But Nanami-chan could definitely use a boyfriend... maybe Kichiro_. Ema laughed inwardly at the idea of her cool, collected friend ordering around her skittish secretary, then waved the thought away.

"Hm. I can't believe there was another murder."

Ema jumped, her body going taut in the chair. It was another friend of hers, Juli, who spoke. Clucking his tongue and making a squirrel-like noise, he pointed at the television mounted three rows behind her. "I didn't mean to scare you, Chi-chan. But looks like that murderer is at it again."

It was true. The bland-faced news reporter drawled about another stabbing: one young woman, killed in her own home by three stab wounds in one perfect line beneath her ribs. Ema shuddered. It was the exact same way her parents were killed: so methodically left to bleed out where nobody else could find them, dying afraid and alone in a place they thought was safe.

"It's so cold-blooded." A new voice spoke up, and Ema tore her eyes away from the television to nod at the last occupant at the table, Ryuji. His eyes were large and sad as he watched the news with rapt attention. Out of all of them, besides Ema, he was the one always most horrified by these killings, the trail always running dry with every new body found.

Ema hummed her agreement, concealing her agony in the coffee mug she raised to her lips. "Yeah, I agree. I think I'm going to put some more of Livewyre's funds into catching the killer."

" _More_ funds, Chi-chan?" Nanami raised one fine eyebrow at the girl sitting adjacent to her. "You'll never catch him that way. He'll get to you first. Tell me, do you still sleep with a knife under your pillow?"

 _Yes_. "No. But there's nothing else I can do."

"I'm sure _Daisuke_ would be more than happy to go out and catch him for you." Nanami gave him a pointed look, and Daisuke's glare advised her to tread with caution. Her mouth snapped shut, nervous to aggravate her senior.

Ema shook her head. "I could never—"

Her phone buzzed on the table, and she jumped, still high-strung at the news of the latest murder. "I'm so sorry. Do you mind if I take this?" The other four at the table nodded their assent, still engaged by the story unfolding on the television screen, and Ema stood and strode outside before answering the call. "Hello?"

" _Where are you...?_ "

She froze.

Something was wrong. So very wrong.

The voice that answered was perfectly cordial; friendly, even, as though rehearsed. But it was so cold, so chilling, so _empty_ it could have killed her on the spot. " _Where in the world could you possibly have gone?"_

"H-hello? Who is this?" Ema tried to keep her voice strong, unwavering, but her efforts were in vain when she whimpered as the voice lilted happily.

" _I'm going to get you. Don't you ever forget that._ "

An impish chuckle and a click of a receiver, and the line went dead.

* * *

She excused herself immediately after that.

Of course, Daisuke noticed how pale and shaken she was when she returned to the table, and brought her straight to the hotel suite penthouse she called home. After escorting her upstairs, he caught her arm. "Ema."

She blinked up at him. It was rare he called her anything besides "Ema-san" or even "Chiyaka-sama," a habit he picked up when he had been working under her father. The last time he had addressed her as anything but a formal name had been after her parents died and she had been acquitted, when the reality of her situation had caught up to her and she curled up on a couch to sob while Daisuke stood sadly in the doorway.

"...What?"

"Go... go directly to bed."

Ema, even more confused, assesed him as if wondering if he'd been replaced by a doppelganger.

"Please."

Ema nodded slowly. "Ano... sure, Daisuke. I can do that."

He nodded, an emotion heavy in his eyes, one that Ema couldn't quite name. "And..." Hesitating, he leaned down and gently brushed his lips against her mouth, hardly making contact at all. "I just thought you should know. That's why I can't start seeing Nanami-san."

Somehow, something about the sudden display of affection unsettled Ema more than pleased her. Not because of Daisuke himself; no, Daisuke, if given the chance, could be any girl's dream man. Tall, loyal, protective, attractive. But everything seemed too staged, too planned out. It felt as if she were supposed to react a certain way. She half-expected the moment to be a script, and for Daisuke to continue on with his lines as if she were simply an actor who forgot her part. Her usually stoic friend suddenly declaring his love felt so uncharacteristically out-of-place that the sweet gesture of a kiss turned from "loving" into "disturbing." And partnered with the unsolicited call from the suspicious number, it turned into downright "terrifying," making her wonder if Daisuke was feeling okay.

Before she could question him on it, though, he was gone, leaving her stunned in the foyer to her hotel suite.

* * *

True to her word, Ema headed straight to her bedroom and changed into a white silk nightgown. Lighter than air, the fine fabric fell over her body like water over smooth stones. She vaguely noted that it was one she never wore: in fact, it was one she never remembered buying, and wearing it now seemed so out of context she nearly changed into a ratty t-shirt. She curled up in her heavy duvet, running her fingers along familiar canvas of a knife holster beneath the pillow. When Daisuke couldn't provide her comfort, the idea that she could defend herself against a murderer always did.

And then she was walking.

She didn't know why. One moment, she was shielded by blankets and pillows and three locked doors, and the next, her bare feet were padding along the plush carpeting of the hallway outside her suite, her mind reasoning that she decided to take a walk because she couldn't sleep.

 _I didn't bring a knife_ , she thought distantly. _Why am I doing so many things that I would never do? And Daisuke, also?_

The _ding_ of the elevator signaled her to enter, and she hesitated as she turned to face the entrance. Which floor to go to? Did she even need to go anywhere? She was about to leave and just go back to bed before a snap decision pushed her to press the button for the thirteenth floor, seventeen floors down. She shuddered at the lurch of the elevator, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.

 _I'm going to die_.

She shook her head rapidly, feeling like she needed to be sick. _No... stop scaring yourself._

Ema had never been to the thirteenth floor before. It was just as pristine as the penthouse, albeit a little bit less luxurious. Paintings at least twice the height of Daisuke adorned the walls, and the carpet was soft beneath her toes. She wandered down the hall with her hands clasped behind her back. And she paused.

The door to the room beside her was cracked open, the inside of the room dark save for a glowing red screen sitting on the desk. The fourteenth room on the thirteenth floor, with one light and infinite darkness inside. There was something frighteningly ominous about that, but Ema was already reaching for the handle.

 _Close the door. Don't go in there. You're doing things you would never do._

"Hello?"

There was only silence and the ruffle of the curtains as they danced beside the open window.

"Hello?" She repeated, inching back toward the door.

Her back hit something solid and warm.

"Hello, Ema," returned an amiable voice: one that sounded infinitely pleased to see her and impossibly amused to catch her. "I told you I was going to get you."

Her bloodcurdling scream echoed through the room as the door slammed shut.

* * *

 **Eek! A brand new story, and it's already at 4,000+ words. Yikes.**

 **This is just a prologue to give context to the rest of the story. You'll see a lot more of the Asahina brothers in the next chapter. This is going to be a little different from the rest of my stories, as in I'm going to develop her relationships with the brothers in this new universe, and likely give them bigger romantic roles than I normally would. I've already got a good portion of the outline mapped out, both with the alternate ending(s) and main ending(s), and I'm definitely not going to spoil on how many there are. ;)**

 **Anyway, please, please, please review! I'd love to know what you guys think so far, if it's interesting, if it's confusing, if it Sucks(TM). I'm super excited to have this up as a side project to _Green-Eyed_ , and a main project once that story comes to a close, which shouldn't be for another ten or so chapters.**

 **Later, everyone, and thanks for reading!**


	2. The Author

**As usual, I do not own BroCon.**

* * *

In an airport universes away, a dark-haired man lugged his suitcase off the luggage belt. He adjusted his scarf and smoothed a hand across his face, wiping off the sheen of sweat that had formed from the crowded flight. After pushing his way through customs, he found himself in the waiting area of the airport. A glance at his watch confirmed that his flight had landed rather early.

Falling into his seat, he reclined and sighed.

"Excuse me?"

The man jumped and turned to look at the young woman leaning down to talk to him, making herself as small as possible as if not to attract any passersby. "Yes?"

"Are you the author Rintarou Hinata?"

Blinking at her, he nodded. The girl was a pretty redhead with freckles dotting her nose, clearly American if her Western-style introduction could prove anything. Her choppy Japanese and quick, awkward bows were another testament to her overseas upbringing.

He chuckled at her, knowing well how difficult it was to find oneself in a foreign culture. "Yes, I am."

"Oh, my gosh!" She cried in English and reached out as if to hug him, but quickly checked herself. "I mean, wow, it's so good to meet you. I've seen you in interviews. I'm such a big fan of your work. _Livewyre_ really speaks to me. I read the entire thing in a matter of days."

"The whole thing?" Rintarou raised an eyebrow. "All thirty-three volumes of it?"

"Yes, the English translation made it easier to follow so I didn't have to practice my rusty Japanese while reading your books."

Rintarou nodded knowingly. "I'd known that there was an English translation, but I hadn't thought it would be popular anywhere else but here in Japan."

"No, no, of course not! _Livewyre_ is still well-read in America. I mean, a lot of people I know read it, but it's definitely bigger here. It's so surreal to be seeing Ema Chiyaka's face everywhere, on billboards and posters and everything." The redhead said with a laugh. She knelt down and reached into her bag. "Can you sign this for me?"

He reached into his breast pocket and clicked a pen open, and the girl gushed her thanks as she skitted away happily. Rintarou leaned back, folding his hands atop his stomach, and watched the ceiling fans whirl. It was true that he didn't think his graphic novel series, _Livewyre,_ named after the company belonging to the main character, would be such a hit. All around him were promotions for the series, each with dramatic covers featuring the series' main character, the beautiful Chiyaka Ema.

When he'd first started drawing her story years ago, he'd almost felt remorse at the traumatic backstory he'd written for her. But his editor had immediately swooned over it and the admirable resilience of the heroine, even after the untimely death of her parents, so with nervous anticipation, he published the first volume of _Livewyre_ to his personal website.

And he'd _never_ thought that it would boom so quickly, and certainly not so largely.

Only a week after its first big release, he'd been called to schedule a television interview to discuss the future of the story and the introduction of the leading man, Shinozuka Daisuke, and Ema's quest to reveal the true identity of the killer. And not even a day after that, a publishing firm had contacted him and asked if they could release a version of _Livewyre_ in hard copies. To Rintarou, it was still stunning how quickly his story progressed from a hobby to a computer and paperback series. He was even considering an offer to sell rights to turn it into an anime, along with optioning it as a live-action thriller film.

And throughout it all, he'd had no greater joy than developing Ema into a character he could consider his own daughter. Sometimes drawing her felt so real to him that he half-expected her to step out of the pages and into his own life. He knew that many of his fans agreed, and that the appeal to her story was the unfaltering kindness she kept even through all her hardships. Even when she bought back Livewyre, the company for which the series was named, she refused to be corrupted by her wealth and power, and _that_ , Rintarou thought, was something she could be admired for.

But with a heavy heart, he acknowledged that it was time to conclude the series. Now _Livewyre_ was on its thirty-third volume as he drew the thirty-fourth: the volume which would conclude the series with a bang. While writing it, he'd traveled the world and met with loyal readers of the series. But now, he was marrying a beautiful woman and her thirteen sons. There was simply no way he could focus on his family when Ema was the forefront of his attention.

"Rintarou-san?"

He jumped and glanced up in surprise. The slate-haired boy standing over him blinked slowly and said, "You're Rintarou-san." It was more of a statement than a question the second time he voiced it, and Rintarou nodded while the boy continued. "Okay. Let's go."

"Wait, what?"

"The car just got here. I figure you want to get home rather quickly. Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Asahina Iori."

Immediately sheepish, Rintarou smacked his palm against his forehead. He'd spent hours looking over pictures of his future stepsons, but while remembering them was easy in theory, it was clearly far more difficult in practice."Of course! I'm so sorry. I just expected all of you to come."

"Mm. Well, some of us are out in the car, waiting to take your bags. The rest of us are at home or work. Mom is on her way home, and we'll drive you there."

Iori led Rintarou out the door, the pair easily falling into synchronized footfalls. At last they arrived at a sleek, black car, where two men leaned casually against the exterior, and one more sat inside. This time, Rintarou was prepared to name them. He could easily make out the silhouette of Subaru, the basketball player; Kaname, the monk; and Ukyo, the lawyer, sitting behind the wheel. Kaname and Subaru pushed themselves from where they relaxed against the side of the car and moved to shake Rintarou's hand.

"Rintarou-san, it's so good to have you," Kaname enthused with a winning smile. "This is Suba-chan— Subaru. I am Kaname." With a slight bow, he ushered Rintarou into the passenger's seat of the car while Subaru, who'd remained silent, hoisted Rintarou's suitcases into the trunk.

Rintarou greeted everyone in the car as they introduced themselves, his nerves calming a little at their friendly dispositions. He surmised that a cold greeting from their future children was the fear of every stepparent, and he included himself in that group.

Still, he hated to admit that the small talk was almost unbearably awkward, and he was glad to see Miwa's form standing expectantly on Sunrise Residence's porch.

He made his way out of the car and opened his arms to her, smiling into her blonde hair while Subaru brought his bags inside, hoisting one suitcase on each shoulder.

"It's so nice to see you, my dear," he hummed, pulling away and patting the back of her head. She brought her hand up to lay it over his, and he admired the diamond engagement ring that proudly curled around her finger.

Miwa laughed. "Well, it's nice to see you too. The boys are all home, except for Hikaru and Natsume. I figured I'd just spare you the agony of having to meet them all at different times." She flashed him a cheeky smile, and he felt a wave of gratitude at her thoughtfulness.

"Thank you. Well, let's go meet them now. Or, me, that is."

She led him inside, where her sons occupied the commonspace floor. While a few had lined up like rows of dolls along the couches, a couple had seated themselves at the dining table, and another checked up on the crockpot plugged into the outlet behind the counter.

In the living room, two boys about their teens argued over an object in the shorter one's hand. Rintarou recognized them to be Yusuke and Fuuto, and with amused realization, he noted that Fuuto gripped a copy of the thirty-third _Livewyre_ volume in one hand, stretching it away from Yusuke, while his other hand pushed against Yusuke's face as the red-haired boy grappled to get the book back. In the corner, the man Rintarou recalled to be Masaomi sat calmly with the youngest, Wataru, and watched over his younger brothers' antics while Wataru huffed to join in.

At the kitchen, Ukyo seemed satisfied with the outcome of his dish, and began ladling their dinner into large bowls while he recruited the help of the two young men sitting at the table. Rintarou had to search a little while for their names and came up with Tsubaki and Azusa, though he couldn't remember which one was which.

He assumed that Subaru was upstairs putting the luggage away, and behind him, Kaname made to lounge on one of the couches while Iori took a seat beside the beige-haired brother, Louis.

Impressed with himself for remembering all their names so easily (besides the slip-up with Iori at the airport), Rintarou stepped forward easily when Miwa introduced him. He bowed politely at them, and a couple nodded their heads back, but the rest reacted with indifference. Fuuto even yawned, earning a warning look from Miwa.

In all honesty, Rintarou had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He loved Miwa dearly. He was sure of that. And he'd known that meeting all thirteen of her sons would be a challenge, but this was... terrifying. He'd known what to expect from her descriptions of them and from the auras they put off in the pictures she gave him. Meeting them in person, however, seemed larger-than-life to him. While a few like Masaomi or Ukyo were perfectly courteous, it was the distant etiquette one might receive from a stranger, as if they were warily holding him at arms' length. And some of them didn't bother hiding their boredom, while the rest tried to, but failed terribly.

As if sensing the discomfort in the room, Miwa quickly asked Ukyo if dinner was about ready just as he set the last plate on the table. She guided him to his place beside her at the table, while the rest took their seats. Yusuke still seemed a little put out at the rough handling of his _Livewyre_ copy, even as Fuuto tossed it back to him with an, "I never cared much for the heroine anyway."

Rintarou chuckled and glanced at his fiancee.

"Okay!" She said cheerfully, clapping her hands together once. "Let's eat!"

And that was when it _really_ got awkward.

It appeared that Ukyo, Azusa, and Tsubaki had placed the dishes perfectly in the center of the table. In dead silence, each brother glanced around at the others, at their mother, and at their mother's fiance, each waiting for the others to serve themselves or for the bowls to be passed to them. Rintarou, in his hopes of being polite, didn't want to make a move to serve himself till his hosts had done the same. And Miwa, sitting at the head of the table, watched her sons and fiance interact with a smile plastered on her face.

"How..." Tsubaki started, but there was the definite thump of a foot slamming into a shin beneath the table and he flinched away from Azusa, who glared at him. "...silent."

Miwa loosed a breath, closing her eyes while the smile never dropped from her face. "Okay. I'll just grab the plate first."

She pulled the serving bowl to her plate at the same time Masaomi reached out to take it for himself, and he quickly let go with a stuttered apology. Rintarou almost flinched away at how tensely the Asahina brothers ate their food. For a while, the only noises were the clinking of silverware against plates.

"Fuu-chan, what was that you were keeping from Yusuke?" Miwa lifted her wine glass to her lips and regarded her son playfully over the rim.

Fuuto shrugged apathetically. "It was just the latest volume of that series he's so obsessed with."

Yusuke made a garbled, indignant sound and brandished his fork at Fuuto. "I'm not _obsessed_ with it! It's just a really good story!"

Rintarou brimmed with happiness at the indirect praise, but looked at Miwa curiously. She subtly raised a finger to her lips in a hushing motion. Beside her, Masaomi blinked at his younger brothers.

"Wait, _Livewyre_? Isn't that the graphic novel series that's been all over the place lately?"

"Not lately," Azusa corrected. "More like the past four or five years."

"Ah, that one. Wait, what is it about?"

"You've never read _Livewyre,_ Masa-nii?" Tsubaki cut in, shocked. "It's only one of the greatest stories of our time! A beautiful heroine with a tragic past and a heart of gold, fighting for justice in a corrupt world with nobody but her loyal friends by her side! Chiyaka Ema is exactly the kind of girl this society needs, in my opinion. And I'll be rooting for her to find the culprit, the same way I have been ever since Volume One."

"Of course not!" Yusuke countered. "If she finds the culprit, the series ends! I want the author to hold out as long as he can till Ema-chan has everything going right for her, _then_ she can find the culprit."

Rintarou raised an eyebrow and looked to Miwa, who was stifling her laughs. _So she never told them, then._

"What? Idiot. Of course the author isn't going to end the story with Ema finding the culprit. She'll find him halfway through, and then the rest of the series will be the development of her relationship with the bodyguard," Fuuto snipped, and Yusuke frowned at him.

"I thought you said you didn't like the series."

"I never said I didn't like it. Everybody likes it. But I'm not _obsessed_ with it like you are."

"Fuuto," Ukyo warned.

"What?" He intoned with his cheek resting on his palm. "It's not like it's healthy for him to like the series so much. Have you even been in his room lately? The entire back wall is covered in posters of Ema and action shots of Daisuke and whatnot. It's ridiculous."

Ukyo looked to Yusuke in alarm, while the boy in question snapped, "That's never been proven!"

"I want spoilers!" Wataru cried. "I wish the author would release the next volume already! The next one is where she'll marry Daisuke!"

"Of course not!" Yusuke interjected. "That's not going to happen until _at least_ the fortieth issue!"

"Yeah right," Iori spoke for the first time, raising an eyebrow, "Doesn't it make more sense for them to have a secret wedding next issue, and then catch the culprit in the later ones?"

"They're not even dating yet, though. He got to kiss her only the last volume." Louis hummed, and Rintarou watched in amusement as arguments sparked around the table about the fate of Ema.

"Maybe you could ask Rintarou-san, Wata-chan." Miwa cut in cheerily over the overlapping debates that had sprung up around the table. "He's quite well-versed in the _Livewyre_ series, hm?"

All the eyes in the room turned to him, and he rubbed the back of his neck and smiled awkwardly. "Well, ah, yes. I was. I am. I... wrote the series."

The silence was deafening as eyes glazed over and mouths dropped. Yusuke's face turned a bright red, and distantly, Rintarou could hear a quiet wailing noise that crescendoed into Wataru's screech:

" _Waah! You wrote Livewyre?!_ The _Livewyre?!"_

 _"_ You're Rintarou... _Hinata_?" Azusa pushed, incredulous, as his glasses slipped down his nose.

"Yes," Rintarou laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But Miwa seemed to be having so much fun, so I figured I'd play along for just a little while longer."

In the corner of his eye, Masaomi and Ukyo visibly softened, humor growing on their faces as they realized their mother's mischief.

"Forget apologies!" Tsubaki demanded. "You have to give us spoilers, now! Wait, no, don't, because then it'll ruin the next book... oh, forget that, what happens next issue?! The last one left off with the most intense cliffhanger: I want to know what the person in that hotel room did once Ema screamed! Did Daisuke burst in last minute?"

"Will she marry him in the fortieth volume?" Yusuke added.

"Wait, no, she's going to fight back, isn't she?" Fuuto urged.

"Ah, wait, wait!" Rintarou chuckled awkwardly, backing away from the faces that seemed to be inching closer and closer to his. "Do you really want spoilers?'

Eager nods around the table, and a few shrugs from the brothers who were indifferent prompted Rintarou to take a deep breath.

In all honesty, he was glad that his soon-to-be stepsons were so eager to learn more about his series. Around the table, barriers seemed to have been bulldozed, and now he was free to talk about his passion.

"Okay. I'm afraid you're not going to like it." He paused for effect. "But there's not going to _be_ a fortieth volume. In fact, the next one is the last one."

"...What?"

"The next issue," Rintarou repeated cautiously, "Will be the last one."

"No, no, _no_!" Wataru moaned sadly. "Why?"

Rintarou shrugged. "I'm sorry. It's just now that I'm getting married, I need to shift my focus to other things. Writing for Ema takes up too much of my time; it would be unhealthy for me to have a family and deal with traveling for book signings, coming up with new plots, and keeping my editor off my back."

"And he's been gracious enough to decide to finish the story," Miwa added, taking his hand in both of hers and gazing at him warmly. "How did you plan on doing so, dear?"

"I'm afraid that Ema will be killed in the next volume." He answered apologetically. "I know it's sudden, but it's the quickest way to finish the series before the wedding, and it'll be closure for fans of Daisuke. I originally wrote him to be the love interest for Ema; I suppose I made their relationship develop too slowly, though. That's why I had him kiss her in Volume 33 as a way of thanking fans for sticking by me till then."

Objections rose around the table before Azusa cut in curiously,

"Wait. Can we see?"

"Can you see?" Rintarou said, tilting his head.

"See a preview for the next chapter. If you intend to kill her off so quickly, you should do it in a way that leaves the audience sad, but accepting. If you don't pull it off right, then fans might riot and pressure you into starting the series back up again."

"Oh, yes, yes!" Tsubaki said brightly. "And since we're fans, we can tell you whether or not you did it right!"

"That's not a bad idea," Rintarou approved. "Wait, let me get my tablet."

A few moments later, the Asahinas crowded around the writer while he pulled up his drawing program. Miwa peered at the glowing white screen from his side, and the other avid followers of the series packed around to catch a glimpse of the final installment. At last, the loading page faded away into a gloom-colored scene.

Three panels scored through the page on the screen, each stained by dark indigos and watercolor golds. In the final, largest one, the iconic Chiyaka Ema lay sprawled across the floor in a panoramic shot, blood pooling from the three perfect stab wounds dotted in her stomach. Pale blue light glinted off the deep red smeared along her hands and drenching her milky nightdress. Glowing brush script veined across the bottom of the page:

"' _This is the end of me,_ '" Yusuke whispered the words aloud as Rintarou powered down the tablet. "That's intense."

"And sad," Louis added. "She never even got to find the culprit. She was such a good character, but she never got the justice she worked so hard for."

"Will you write an epilogue?" Iori questioned, raising a brow. Rintarou shrugged in response.

"I don't know. I may write a short one about how her friends find her."

"Who's the killer?" Wataru leaned around Masaomi to address him with wide eyes.

"I don't know that, either," Rintarou admitted. "I began writing without a killer in mind. I never knew who he would be, and I thought my writing would just... figure it out as Ema did. Whoever made sense would become him."

"No killer, no romance... you really can't extend it a little longer?" Fuuto retaliated.

"I'm afraid not. _Livewyre_ can't be priority anymore." He apologized as Fuuto rolled his eyes and huffed in his seat.

"It's very sweet of him to give us all of his time," Miwa scolded Fuuto. "That means you can get to know him better."

Both Miwa and Rintarou ignored the mutter under Fuuto's breath that sounded suspiciously close to an "As if."

"Do you have anything else big planned for your series, Rintarou-san?" Masaomi asked cordially, and Rintarou nodded.

"Tomorrow is the big release. And I have a press conference first thing in the morni— _I have a press conference first thing in the morning_!"

He jumped up, alarmed, scanning the room for a clock; the time was nearing midnight. "I need to go!" He made his way to the cupboard and quickly pulled on his coat, Miwa hot on his heels and laughing fondly. "It was very nice to meet all of you. But it's already late, and I have to wake up early to get ready; I'll see you all at the wedding, yes?"

"Ma-kun, Kyo-chan, can you show us out?" Miwa sang, tugging her jacket over her arms.

The four headed up the stairs and out the door while the rest of the brothers reclined.

"Wow, I can't believe she's getting married to the author of _Livewyre_ ," Kaname mused. "I'm going to have to go back and read it more thoroughly now."

" _I_ can't believe he's killing off Ema," Yusuke moaned, cradling his head in his hands. "She deserv—"

"Look!" Wataru interrupted. "He left his tablet here!" Poking the power button, he curled up on the couch and jutted his nose into the screen. "Wait, what's this...?"

"What's what?" Fuuto asked, shoving Wataru lightly to the side and snatching the tablet. "What...? What is this crap? This isn't what he showed us earlier."

"What are you doing?"

The brothers who had crowded around the tablet jumped at the sound of their second-eldest brother's voice, and Fuuto threw the tablet on the couch.

"Aah, that writer's too forgetful. He left his drawing pad here."

"You shouldn't have been going through it like that," Masaomi chastised gently, picking up the small black slab. "Wait... what _is_ this?"

In his hands, the screen glowed dimly with the same dark coloring of the hotel room. But instead of creamy white skin tainted with red, the floor was smeared with blood, not a body to be seen. The elegant strokes of the original caption had disappeared, leaving the last panel empty save for the crimson streaks along the marble floor and downy bedsheets.

"That's... disturbing." Ukyo shuddered, adjusting his glasses as he observed the page over Masaomi's shoulder. "Didn't he draw it where that Ema girl was dying? _That's_ not what he drew, right?"

"Ah... I don't know," Masaomi frowned. "Maybe this one is just a scratch drawing. Either way, I'll get it back up to him."

He shut the tablet off and made his way toward the stairs, while Ukyo cleared his throat. The new content in the tablet was too eerie for any of them to dwell on, especially so late at night.

"The rest of you, start cleaning up—"

A thud resounded through the house, cutting him off and causing each young man to stiffen.

"...What was that?" Azusa said.

"Did something happen?" Iori asked, tilting his head.

"Masaomi-niisan?" Ukyo called carefully.

 _Silence._

"Oh..." Wataru whimpered, lower lip trembling while Kaname stood and pulled him behind him. "That sounded like a body falling or something!"

"D-don't get paranoid," Tsubaki wavered. "Maybe he just, I don't know, tripped and fell?"

"Masa-nii?" Subaru tried.

"Maybe one of us should go up there?" Yusuke suggested. "H-he might have fallen or something! K-K-Kyo-nii, you go up and see!"

"What?"

"Go up and see!"

He pointed a shaking finger toward the stairs as Ukyo sighed and narrowed his eyes. "You're all just overreacting. Fine, I'll do it."

"Be careful!"

Already at the base of the stairs, Ukyo turned and swept his arm in a patronizing gesture toward his younger brother, then began to walk up, one step at a time. Dead silence reigned for a few moments after he disappeared, before Tsubaki broke the silence with a whisper to Azusa:

"What do you think happened?"

" _Call the ambulance!"_

The command tore through the living room, bloodcurdling and cold as Ukyo appeared at the top of the stairs, hands glistening scarlet while he gripped the railing. "Call the ambulance, _now!"_

 _"_ Wait!" Tsubaki cried, the rest of his brothers following as he chased after Ukyo. "What's goi—"

His question cut off with a choke as he reached the top of the stairs, taking in the sight of his eldest brother, unconscious on the floor of the foyer as Ukyo leaned over him. The steady rise and fall of his chest and untouched skin proved that the blood spreading slowly across the floor wasn't his.

No, it clearly couldn't be his.

It was draining from the beautiful brown-haired girl sprawled across the floor, hand clasped over the three perfect stab wounds in her stomach.

* * *

 **Ay, ay, ay.**

 **Sorry about the late updates. School started back up, and honestly it's kind of a pain trying to keep up with my stories + schoolwork at once. ^^; Hopefully this update was worth it, though! They might be a little bit slow from here on out, both for this story and _Green-Eyed_.**

 **As usual, reviews keep me going! I love hearing your thoughts and suggestions on what you think will happen.**


	3. The Light

**As usual, I do not own BroCon.**

* * *

 _In Chiyaka Ema's social circle, there were too many stigmas about death for her to keep up with._

 _Juli was ever fearful of it. Since the death of the Chiyaka parents, he'd gotten more protective of Ema than nearly anybody else. But his concern was just as comforting, especially with his good night texts and his reminding her to carry pepper spray in her purse. Nanami, as cool-headed as she was, regarded death more frankly than most people seemed to. Kichiro once nearly fainted at the thought of dying, and Ryuji simply preferred not to think of it. Ema supposed that her view of it was closest to Daisuke's: it came whenever it did, and it was important to be prepared for it._

 _But when the white-hot pain of the knife in her body registered for the final time, everything moved too fast. The figure standing over her dying body observed her blankly before nudging her with its toe, and the click of the lock to the hotel room sent a torrent pounding on her ears. Her blood felt too close for comfort, and the tips of her fingers sank into the three cavities of her stomach. Pain screamed through her entire body, gritting her teeth as tears rolled down her cheeks._

 _"No..." her lips moved, but the word was only a breathless whisper that moved to an agonized moan._ This is the end of me.

 _She wasn't ready. It had only been two years: two years for her friends to mourn the death of her parents and now they would have to mourn her. It was all too fast._

 _The anger that swelled through her body did so slowly, stemming from the hollow indents beneath her ribs to the tears that welled in her eyes._

 _Still, something was wrong._

 _It was wrong when she was walking into the room, and it was wrong now that she was dying in it. Everything was too staged, too scripted, too perfect. Daisuke wouldn't have kissed her so suddenly, especially on the night of her death. And she wouldn't have worn white if not to die like a martyr. As if a vengeful god ordered her death, she had walked straight to the gallows._

 _No!_

 _A horrific cry swelled in her throat as brilliant white light radiated flashed on directly in front of her vision, as if from a beacon. She had slumped over now. The light grew from a small pinprick, like a firefly, into a glowing shield. Voices wafted through it, distant and garbled. Yet to a dying girl, they sounded like a holy choir._

 _Defiance flared within her. She still had unfinished business. Her employees counted on her. Her friends counted on her. Justice counted on her. If there was a god who wanted her dead, he would have to wait, because the determination that set in her mind forced her free hand to crawl across the plush carpet, dragging her body across it to the voices laughing on the other side of the light._

This will never be the end for me.

 _With one final burst of strength, she thrust herself into the brightness._

* * *

When Masaomi woke, four hours had passed. The hospital was quiet in the way hospitals simply were: ghostly, clinical, and unsettling.

At the foot of the bed, Wataru and the two brothers closest to him in age had collapsed into chairs, clearly exhausted despite the nurse bustling through the room and checking monitors and bedsheets. She was a seasoned one Masaomi recognized for her solid work ethic, and he found himself quite reassured that he was in good hands.

Nevertheless, he made the effort to sit up even before her hands found his shoulders to pull his weight. His brothers glanced up at his movement as she scuttled out of the room.

"Thank the heavens you're awake," Kaname breathed a sigh of relief. "You just... passed out. Although I can hardly blame you."

"What happened?" The eldest's voice sounded horrible, even to him. He looked down at his shaking hands and flinched at the grayish tint they had adopted.

"Like Kaname said," Ukyo began gently, "You collapsed. You remember why, yes?"

For a moment, Masaomi didn't know what he was talking about. But then the images came to him in rapid succession, images he had thought were a blood-curdling fever dream coming to life in vivid color. The girl, the beautiful girl, lying on her back and gasping for air. His eyes, registering the blood that seeped too quickly through her nightgown. His mind, screaming the procedures for stab wounds like hers, but his feet, paralyzed in fear, refusing to move. He couldn't even bring himself to check her pulse.

His face felt clammy and pale, and taking that as his answer, Ukyo nodded. "I figured you would."

"Did she survive?" Masaomi interjected desperately. "Is she alive? Or did I—"

"Yes, she's alive. She's undergoing surgery right now. The doctor says it's a miracle she's okay. The stab wounds were deep, but immaculate; it was like whoever stabbed her wanted her to die of blood loss, and not organ failure. That's what he tells us, at least, and we still got her here on time, so she'll still be fine," Kaname reassured.

"But if it weren't for me... if something happens to that girl, it'll be my fault. I couldn't do my job as a doctor when I saw her. I just fainted dead away."

"What's done is done." Ukyo frowned at his older brother. "She'll be okay, and so will you."

At that, Wataru crawled up the side of the bed and lay beside Masaomi. "I'm glad you're going to be okay, but that was really scary..."

Masaomi patted his head. "I know, but it's going to be okay now. Where are the others?"

"Outside." Kaname had taken back his seat at the foot of the bed. "They're asleep in the lobby. The triplets are taking care of the younger ones, but we couldn't get a hold of Hikaru."

Masaomi slumped forward and sighed, the thin hospital blanket crumpling around his legs. "This is such a mess."

His brothers didn't respond, each lost in their own world.

"How did that happen?" Ukyo broke the silence, but just barely. "She wasn't there on our way up to walk out Mom and Rintarou-san. There's just no reason she'd be there in the foyer; it's not like she could drag herself in without us noticing, and even if she got stabbed after she got into the house, it doesn't explain how she entered in the first place."

"Ne, she looks like Chiyaka Ema!"

"That seems a little inappropriate, Wataru, especially because they both... got stabbed."

"Aww... but I meant that as a compliment. She's really pretty like Ema."

They couldn't quite deny that. But still...

"It might sound insensitive. Ema-san is fictional, and this girl getting stabbed is a serious, real issue."

"Did you just say Ema-san?" Kaname asked, amused. "You just said she's fictional."

"Ah, it was just force of habit, Kaname. Don't run around getting ideas; I just said it because of how Wataru was talking about her."

"Whatever you say. I promise I won't spread rumors about you having a crush on a fictional... _Imouto-chan._ "

Ukyo's left eye twitched just as the nurse knocked on the door to the room.

"Hello, I hope you're feeling well. The doctor is here. He has some news on the girl's condition."

Ukyo and Kaname exchanged a glance in alarm, then turned to Masaomi, who waved them away as the surgeon's silhouette appeared in the doorway.

"Go ahead. Wataru, you can stay here with me."

"But I want to learn more about the girl who looks like Ema!"

"Wataru!"

The doctor, who had entered the room for the tail end of the conversation, chuckled. "It's quite alright. I'll let you in that the procedure went very well, and she should be better sometime within the month. Since everything is stable with her, a few of the attendants relaxed enough to talk about how she _does_ look a little bit like Chiyaka from _Livewyre_. And just as pretty, too."

The three eldest Asahinas blinked at the same time. Masaomi hadn't gotten a good look at her before passing out, and her face had been obstructed by a face mask for the few moments Ukyo and Kaname had seen her. She was lovely for a dying girl, but having Wataru's claims backed by a professional medic was a bit much.

As if realizing his slip, the doctor bowed.

"I'm sorry if that was inappropriate. We're all big fans of _Livewyre_ in this department. Everything seems to be about it tonight. In fact, the police think that the stabbing was done by a _Livewyre_ fanatic... it was in the exact same way that Ema got stabbed in the most recent volume. Three punctures and everything."

"Huh?" Ukyo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and crinkled his brow. The gears in his mind spun rapidly as he tried to recall what his younger brothers had told him about the series "That makes no sense. How did you know that Ema got stabbed? I thought the most recent volume only went up to her getting locked into that hotel room."

"No, that's Volume 33," the doctor corrected, getting swept into his excitement for the series. "And yes, up until recently that was the most recent chapter. But Hinata Rintarou just published the thirty-fourth, four hours ago!"

 _Four hours ago, also known as "the time the brown-haired girl got stabbed."_

Masaomi frowned at that. "That still doesn't make any sense. Why would he publish an incomplete chapter?"

"Oh, it was hardly incomplete," the doctor chuckled. "It was the best cliffhanger yet. I feel a little bad for spoiling the ending to you, but I'd assumed you'd read it. And anyway, that's not really the true ending of the volume."

"Um," Wataru prodded. "What's the true ending?"

Glee sparked in the doctor's eyes. "You'll just have to read that for yourself."

* * *

Rintarou had been so close to sleep.

He rubbed his eyes and groaned at the screen in front of him, the words taunting him.

 _Livewyre: Chapter 34._

When his editor had called him in a panic (and screamed him out of his state of half-asleep/half-awake), she demanded that he explain to her why he uploaded the latest _Livewyre_ volume without running it by her first. That had really bolted him out of bed, and he scrambled to his laptop only to see that she was right.

A glass of whiskey and pacing a hole into the rug had followed.

He had been sitting at his computer desk for ten minutes straight, steeling his nerves to see the result. While he had been confident in his decision to kill off Ema, the actual editing process being skimmed over would certainly result in a myriad grammatical errors, rough drawings, and unwanted scenes. It certainly wasn't the way he wanted to finish the series that had been his child for the last five years of his life.

Finally, he grit his teeth and began reading.

It wasn't quite as bad as he had expected. He could find only a few unerased reference lines here and there and the occasional typo. The transitional scenes following Ema's stabbing weren't too bad.

At last, he scrolled to the last panel, and his heart nearly stopped.

Ema was gone.

No, no, she couldn't be gone... he didn't remember drawing the panel on the screen, yet it was there. Everything was exactly the same as he remembered it, but Ema was _gone_. Not even a hair or her little finger was in the panel. The mood and color scheme was exactly the same, but where she should have been, there were only smudges of ruby blood with dark indigos and blues reflecting off the surface, as if she had dragged herself somewhere.

 _But where_ _?_

He smacked his face onto the keyboard and let out an elongated, defeated groan. He didn't have time for this! His wedding was only a month and a half away, and this was his way of finishing the story! How could this have happened...?

Realization struck him like lightning.

His tablet was nowhere to be found.

Ema's biggest fans were the Asahina boys.

They didn't want Ema dead.

 _Don't jump to conclusions, Rintarou._

But it made sense that it could be one of them who went ahead and redrew the panel, then published it. It wouldn't even be hard; it would just be a matter of erasing Ema and redrawing the background, which he had saved as a separate file. Then in that case it would just be redrawing the blood, which any fool could do.

He took a deep breath. Yusuke seemed the most upset by her death. It could be him. Or Iori, who was talented enough to mimic his style. Even Fuuto could do it. _No, no! Don't jump to conclusions._

The last thing he needed was to get off on the wrong foot with his stepsons. One night of good feelings didn't mean that they'd like him for the rest of his life, and they especially wouldn't if he began pointing fingers at them and accusing them of uploading his story without his permission.

His phone rang again, and he jumped at the sudden cacophony. Placing a hand over his heart, he gave it a long-suffering look then picked it up.

"Hello?" He noted to himself not to make his voice sound so wary next time.

"Rintarou!" It was Miwa on the other end, and he felt the tension seeping out of his bones. But he quickly realized that it was not the same calm, playful tone she used. "Can you get to the hospital?"

"What? What happened?"

"It's not too urgent apparently, but Natsume called and told me that Masaomi is in the hospital. He fainted! I'm only finding out about this just now because I only woke up recently, but the reason he fainted is a bit scarier than the actual fainting."

Immediately alert, Rintarou sat up straighter as his blood chilled. "Why?"

Miwa took a deep, shaky breath. "He went upstairs because you forgot your tablet. There was a girl in the foyer, and she was bleeding. It was because she got stabbed. Three times."

Rintarou shuddered. "A fanatic then?"

"That's what the police think," Miwa agreed. "But they still want you here. You're not in trouble; they just want to see if you can identify her. The issue is, it seems, that she looks a lot like Ema. They're worried she got targeted just because of that, and they want to see if you know her."

"I don't know anybody who looks like Ema, but I can come. I need to talk to the boys anyway."

"Alright, please hurry."

Rintarou clicked the end call button and sighed, shaking the mouse on his laptop to wake up the screen. There was only a small block of text left to be read. He skimmed through it quickly, irritation flaring up again at the Asahina boys before being tamped down with forced patience. He stood and shrugged on a jacket, not bothering to turn out the lights, then left the hotel room as the lock clicked and the laptop screen glowed forgotten behind him.

There, on the last panel, the text had been replaced with clean white brush strokes. It read like a promise: like a promise from a girl to a god, made in a moment of defiance before death.

 _This will never be the end for me._

* * *

 **Thanks for the kind reviews in the last chapter! And Guest, yes, the author's note at the beginning of the first chapter said that** ** _W_** **was actually the inspiration for this story :) Clearly it won't be headed down the same path, but** ** _W_** **was definitely the catalyst that made me write this~**

 **I hope you all are patient with me about the long update times, and I'm sorry about the shortness of this chapter. Hopefully it wasn't too confusing. I'm trying to get things pumped out, which probably will end up resulting in shorter chapters either way. The muse for Green-Eyed just hasn't been flowing, so I'm hoping that writing through a few chapters of this will get it going again.**

 **As always, I appreciate your support! Your reviews are what fuel my muse.**


	4. The Hospital

**Thanks for your patience, and apologies about the wait. Here is Chapter Four.**

* * *

Rintarou really hoped the hospital had a procedure for spontaneous combustion.

He could feel himself attracting the stares of all the nurses and fellow waiting-room-members, but it was difficult for him to focus on something as trivial as that when he was busy keeping his anger in check. Blood boiling and heart pounding, he could almost feel himself on the verge of exploding. The bright lights of the hospital felt more suitable now that the sun had begun to rise outside, tinting the world with an obnoxious orange hue as if to say, _"Good morning! Your chapter is published, your stepson is in the hospital, and your life can't get much worse."_

Of course, Rintarou had been trying desperately to keep his anger in check for the past hour. It was already about five in the morning, and he'd called his editor to ensure that the situation had remained at least relatively under control. But what had started as panic for her had quickly become pure, unabashed glee.

 _"It's incredible!" She cried over the phone so loudly Rintarou held the earpiece away from himself with a grimace. "I'm shocked that it happened this way, but this is the best reception you've had in almost months! People are loving the idea of Ema's disappearance; in fact, as I scroll through the forums, I'm noticing that they're more active than ever with theories about how she got out."_

 _"Wait," Rintarou grit out, a sense of impending doom seeping between her flurry of exclamation points. "You can't mean what I think you do."_

 _"That's right!" She sang. "I'm sorry, my friend, but you'll be keeping that chapter up."_

This, of course, was the equivalent of announcing that Rintarou should postpone the entire life he had planned for himself in favor of a fake world he'd meant to abandon long ago. He almost hated Ema for a moment and whatever god cursed him to another volume, but he took a deep breath and resolved to finish Livewyre till the end.

It was now six in the morning, and he'd been waiting for about two hours before a doctor and a policewoman finally beckoned him forward.

"The girl isn't awake yet," the policewoman explained, "But we need to get any information as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the more time the assailant has time to get away."

"Of course," Rintarou agreed, understanding. "And of course I'll give you what I know. But afterward, I need to see my- the Asahina boy."

"I'm afraid that if you do, you'll need to be careful." The doctor seemed apologetic, her eyes dimming sadly. "He's in a rather shocked state, as I'm sure you can assume; if you do too much to agitate him, he might pass out again."

Which, of course, meant that an interrogation was out of the question. Rintarou wasn't a heathen; he knew that it would be inhumane to go around accusing the poor boy who had fainted only hours earlier. An image of saying three words to Masaomi and Masaomi passing fainting dead away flitted quickly through Rintarou's mind, and he hid a wry smile as the women led him through the hospital corridors.

"We're here," the doctor announced, and the policewoman pushed the doors open.

"We just need you to identify the girl, if possible. Then you can see your son."

 _Stepson_ , Rintarou corrected in his mind as the girl came into view, still a little peeved at the idea that any of them could be the culprit behind the extra chapter.

He was stunned. He had, for the past two hours, been assuming that everyone was exaggerating about the resemblance. And yet she lay there on an oxygen mask and an immaculate white hospital gown, IVs connected to her arms and wrists, and Rintarou was shaken to the bone at the parallel between this girl and Ema Chiyaka. She lacked the shine of the page or the stylistic strokes of his lines, but she was undoubtedly, alarmingly a carbon copy. Her hair was the same shade of caramel, her skin the same milky color, and Rintarou had a dreading instinct that if her eyes blinked open, they would be the same russet hue he'd shaded on his tablet over and over again.

"Recognize her?" The policewoman asked, all business and far too oblivious to Rintarou's disturbance.

"Only from my novels," Rintarou blurted out before realizing how insane he sounded. "I mean, everyone was right . . . she looks exactly like Ema. I'm scared that that might have something to do with it."

"Really?" The policewoman exclaimed in surprise. "You mean, you didn't model Chiyaka after this girl?"

"No. I haven't seen her, not once. I don't know who she is, but I hope that she didn't get stabbed just because she looked like one of my characters."

He didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive himself if that were the case.

* * *

"Thank goodness!"

Miwa rushed forward to embrace him, and he nearly felt the tension melting off him. "I'm so anxious about what's going to happen," Miwa moaned. "Masaomi's awake. Do you want to talk to him?"

"Ah, no, that's alright." Rintarou chuckled awkwardly. "Ah, dear, do you have any idea if the boys . . . I don't know . . . if they had anything to do with the publishing of the chapter?"

Miwa gazed up at him quizzically. "What? I just assumed that you decided to change it before publishing. That you finally came to your senses that you could spend time both with your family and with your beloved creations." She quirked an eyebrow, a little bit playful albeit still clearly on edge with the night's events.

"No, that's not the case, I'm afraid. That chapter didn't have my permission for uploading. What I showed you was what I intended on publishing, and now that it's changed, I'll have to continue despite the fact that I didn't want to . . . wait, what do you mean 'came to my senses?'"

"Well, it was rather clear that you adored your novel, and I always felt so bad that you were giving it up just to marry me. Ah, ah, ah!" She held a finger to his lips, interrupting his oncoming protests. "You _were_. Don't deny it; there's not really any way around it. I'm grateful that you would go that far, but—"

"You're here!" Miwa's lecture was interrupted by Kaname rounding the corner, clad in a tuxedo, having foregone his stately robes. He was addressing Rintarou, and paused briefly to give a hug to his mother. "Did they have you identify that girl?"

Rintarou's eye twitched. Nevertheless, he smiled politely. "As a matter of fact, they did. No game, I'm afraid."

"What a shame." Kaname's eyes saddened, sincere in his regret for her. "Who knows what her family is thinking."

Rintarou frowned in agreement. He took a deep breath; there was hardly any way around it at this point. If he didn't ask the boys what exactly happened, he might drive himself crazy.

"Kaname—"

The younger man held up a hand, smiling apologetically. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to wait a moment. Masa-nii's been wanting to talk to you; that's why I came to find you."

Rintarou really didn't want to ask _Masaomi_ of all people what happened with the new chapter. He sincerely doubted that a man who hadn't ever read _Livewyre_ would have any motive to change and upload a chapter, and the fact that Masaomi had fainted only hours earlier made Rintarou hesitant to unload any further stress on him. But Kaname was already guiding the way to the room, leaving Rintarou with no choice but to follow.

* * *

"Rintarou-san."

The man in question was met with a deep, long bow (or at least as much as Masaomi could make it without keeling forward) as Kaname escorted him to the hospital room. The eldest Asahina was feeling better, apparently, or at least better enough to make his way cautiously around the room with the support of Ukyo's shoulder. Rintarou bowed back a little awkwardly, waiting for Masaomi to straighten.

"I'm so sorry." Masaomi said, his eyes still faced to the floor. "Yusuke told me about what happened with the chapter after he read it. I feel like it's my fault."

Rintarou, shocked, stammered out, "Ah, well, that's actually what I was here to talk about . . . you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Well, I was holding the tablet when I fainted. I was thinking about it, and I think it's my fault, that I might have pressed something when I dropped it and uploaded a different version of the story."

Realistically, Rintarou knew this couldn't be the case; the new panels would had to have been drawn already in order for such a thing to happen, and he told Masaomi so.

"But," Masaomi furrowed his brow, the corners of his lips curling downward. "I don't understand. The panels were already drawn by the time we found your tablet again."

"That can't be right," Rintarou responded with a mirrored expression. "I never drew panels like that. I had thought that one of you had redrawn it because you all liked the series so much, and didn't want it to end. I thought that it would have been Yusuke or Fuuto, after you were hospitalized, who had drawn the new panels."

"Well, that can't be the case, either." Ukyo pushed his glasses up his nose in slight frustration at the night's events. All business, he continued, "The night was far too chaotic for that, and Fuuto and Yusuke never would have even had the time to draw those panels in time."

There was no way Rintarou could refute that. Rather confused and still a bit wound tight at who changed the ending, he carded a hand through his hair, regarding his future stepsons with a scrutinizing eye. Still, relieved that there was no way they were to blame, he sighed. "Yes, of course. You're right. Of course there's no way that redrawing the panels would have been anyone's first priority when there was a dying girl in your foyer. Forgive me for jumping to conclusions." He gave a sure bow, glad to see that neither brother seemed to be particularly begrudging of him.

The effects of the alcohol earlier were starting to kick in in the form of a headache, and he released a deep breath. "I'm afraid I'll have to go home now. I've skipped out on that interview, and there's no way that my editor's going to let me hear the end of it what with the new publication."

"Of course." Ukyo nodded understandingly. "Ah, wait. Here." He offered the tablet to a surprised Rintarou. "Because we never got it to you with all the commotion. Get home safe, Rintarou-san."

Smiling at the familiar weight of the tablet, the author smiled. "I will."

* * *

As soon as the cab had pulled up to his home, Rintarou had collapsed into bed, horribly tired but coming to rationalization as the situation began to mellow out a little bit. Of course, this would be salvageable. He could finish up the storyline in no more than three volumes, if he worked hard at it.

He could excuse her sudden absence as Daisuke rescuing her. Then, after that, he could have the next volume up as her recovering in the hospital. Daisuke would be at her side when she woke up, tell her he loved her as homage to the fans, and then she would realize that there were some prices she was unwilling to pay and finally give up her goal of catching the murderer. He could spend the last volume to tie up loose ends between the characters, and use the epilogue to show that many years later, the police would finally catch the murderer, and Ema would finally be at peace. Rintarou would be, too, with the series conclusion, and his fans wouldn't complain at an ending like that.

 _Yes,_ Rintarou thought complacently. _That's what I'll do_.

Satisfied, he sat up on the bed, ready to begin drawing. He almost felt a little grateful at whatever force decided to change the ending; somehow, this new ending felt more _right_ than simply killing her off. And in some way, he felt as if ending it like this would mean she'd be happy for the rest of his life, suspended in peace in his own world of _Livewyre_.

But of course, the fates had something turned against him.

Because his heart stopped as he turned on his tablet only to find a fresh document open, black lines snaking through it as if by some invisible force, drawing new chapters before his eyes.

* * *

 **Apologies for the wait! To be quite honest, I've lost muse for anything Brothers' Conflict related besides the occasional me-screaming-new-ideas-at-my-beta. I've rewatched the anime, though, so hopefully that'll help me out a little bit! This story, plus a sequel to Halcyon Pursuit, and a oneshot that I'm working on in hopes of getting my muse back are what I've been writing recently to get back into the swing of things. Unfortunately, my muse has died down for Green-Eyed since I was seemingly unclear that the purpose of the story was to show that Ema can be her own person, with or without a lover; until I can get my muse back, or at least clarify what my intent is of it, updates for Green-Eyed will be _extremely_ slow. Even slower than usual, I'm afraid.**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this new chapter. Don't forget to review with your thoughts!**


	5. The Awakening

**I do not own Brothers Conflict.**

* * *

 _Nanami felt like her head was going to explode if Daisuke paced the floor for much longer. It had only been three days since they'd seen Ema, but for all Daisuke's patience was worth when it came to his client and friend, that was the length of the entire universe. Yet even Nanami had to admit that this was worrisome; Ema never went a few hours without contacting any of them with a text good night or good morning._

 _"S-s-sir!" Kichiro stammered, hands fluttering fretfully from his spot on Nanami's leather couch. "Please, you might destroy Miss Nanami's rugs!" He shrank away from Daisuke's heated glare, and Nanami sighed again, pouring another full glass of wine for herself and Ryuji, who sat adjacent to her. He smiled at her in his signature weary way._

 _"Thank you, Nanami-chan. And Daisuke, really— Ema's a big girl who can take care of herself." Even as he said it, Nanami could catch the intense worry. She knew him well enough that she didn't have to look over to see the wrinkle in his brow._

 _Nanami looked over anyway and met his gaze, a little saddened by how weak her friend seemed to be. Ryuji had never been that strong in the first place, having been bullied all through middle school until Ema, the most popular girl in school at the time, had stepped in and taken him under her wing. Nanami had been impressed enough by that that she'd gone ahead and joined in with Ema and her friend Juli. For longer than Nanami could remember, Ryuji had been scrawny; perhaps he leaned a little on the cute side, but his eyes were always big and underscored with dark, fearful circles._

 _So looking back, Nanami could see why he now seemed to be so afraid he could pass out. It had been their dynamic since middle school: Ema would protect Ryuji from bullies, Juli would protect Ema from wolfish boys, and Nanami would protect Juli from overdoing it. Now that Ryuji lost Ema, how could he possibly function well? In all the pictures Nanami had of herself, Ema, Ryuji, and Juli (with Daisuke, who was at the time Ema's father's bodyguard, lingering awkwardly in the background), Ryuji clung to Ema like a small, scared child, and she'd hug him right back, radiating confidence and motherly protectiveness. Nanami could practically feel the gratitude radiating off Ryuji in every photo._

 _Nanami shook her head and clicked her tongue in concern. If Ema didn't get in contact soon, Ryuji was bound to fall apart._

 _"Daisuke," she commanded, golden eyes narrowing and whirring in calculation. "When was the last you heard from her?"_

 _"Three nights ago," he responded immediately. "After . . ." Daisuke's eyes flickered uncertainly between the other three in the room. "I wished her good night."_

 _"So you were the last one to see her. And as the last one to see her, you know about what she was feeling and what she might have done that night. No?"_

 _Daisuke shifted uncomfortably. "Nanami-chan. I only wished her good night."_

 _"You know her better than you think, Daisuke. Concentrate."_

 _He hesitated before sighing. "She was clearly out of sorts. She seemed afraid of something, but I don't know what. After I kissed her good night, she seemed even more frazzled. I think she would have gone somewhere after that to clear her head . . . she might have taken a walk."_

 _"You kissed her good night?!"_

 _Daisuke jumped, realizing his mistake, and his ears turned a bright red as his three friends choked on their wine and screeched at him in unison._

 _"Hey, you kid, you never told us this!" Nanami snapped, leaning forward._

 _"It's not relevant!" Daisuke snapped back. "I've had enough of this. I'm going to go look again. I've searched what feels like the entire building . . . I've only managed to make it down to the fifteenth floor. I'm searching the thirteenth today. Kichiro, you're with me."_

 _The secretary jumped. "S-s-sir?"_

 _"You're with me, Kichiro. Get your jacket and let's go." He was out the door before Kichiro could reply._

 _Kichiro flinched before nodding. He sifted through the jackets on Nanami's coat stand and hardly managed to get three buttons done before Daisuke's booming voice echoed down the hall and called ro him again. "Y-yes, sir! Goodbye, Miss Nanami. Mister Ryuji." Kichiro gave two nervous bows before hurrying after Daisuke._

 _The duo hardly registered him leaving, each lost in a comfortable yet heavy silence._

* * *

 _"Well, this is it." Daisuke dodged a woman carrying groceries up the stairs as his tall form shadowed the end of the hall on the thirteenth floor of Ema's apartment building. Ema lived in the penthouse, so Daisuke had spent the past few days scouring the building from the roof down for any sign of his friend. "Unlucky thirteen."_

 _"This, sir? It looks the same as any of the other floors we checked."_

 _"I have a feeling about this one." Daisuke began striding down the hall. "It's a bad feeling. Stay close to me."_

 _Kichiro gulped, taking a large breath from his inhaler. "A b-b-bad feeling, sir? As in, we may die, sir?"_

 _Daisuke wasn't listening. "It's strange that we hardly ever see Ema's neighbors here. It seems like this floor was just . . . created. Out of thin air. I said stay close, Kichiro!"_

 _Kichiro, who'd peeked into one of the open doors, jumped so high he nearly hit his head on the threshold and came scurrying back to Daisuke. The bodyguard brushed aside the edge of his black suit jacket and reached for a gun on his hip, stalking through the hallway._

 _A light ahead of them flickered._

 _"Kichiro?"_

 _" . . . yes, sir?"_

 _"This is a five star apartment building."_

 _" . . . yes, sir."_

 _"So then why is it that that light there just flickered?"_

 _The pair exchanged fearful glances. Daisuke, with the prowess of a long cat stalking through the grass, crept to the flickering light. He turned to his left. There, as if under the spotlight of the broken lightbulb, a door slowly creaked open as the rest of the hallway went dark, and only a glowing screen from within illuminated the face of the bodyguard and his horrified companion._

 _"Daisuke-san! Please, don't go in there!" He gripped one dark-sleeved arm, but all his effort was nothing compared to Daisuke, who ripped his arm away with ease and slunk quietly through the door. Moaning, Kichiro followed._

 _The inside of the room was illuminated by a soft, blue glow as if by a computer screen, yet the place was so dark they could barely see silhouettes. Kichiro, adjusting his glasses, scampered forward only to run face-first into a muscular back. Daisuke shot him a dirty scowl._

 _"I-I-I'm sor—"_

 _"Don't worry about it," Daisuke huffed, and retreated to check the restroom._

 _Kichiro frowned, creeping forward to examine the room. If Daisuke was planning on creeping around dark spaces like this, then he should perhaps wear some brighter colors. The aesthetic of black on black on black clothing was certainly pleasing, but impractical when traveling with others. Perhaps neon pink?_

 _He stepped on a sticky path on the floor. He looked down, braced himself, took a deep breath, and screamed._

 _Blood._

 _"Blood! It's blood!"_

 _Daisuke rushed out of the restroom, gun at the ready and aimed straight for Kichiro, who looked as if he could die of shock. The same expression soon matched Daisuke's face as he turned incredibly pale. "No. Call the police . . . call the police, Kichiro!"_

 _The taller man shook Kichiro violently from his stupor where he stared at the dried red smudges on the floor. "R-r-r-right! Right, right, right, police, police, police . . . fourteenth room, thirteenth floor . . . "_

 _"Nanami-chan," Daisuke spoke into his phone, having already called his friend and walking out the door. "We found blood. Get over here. No, don't bring Ryuji. He'll faint." Daisuke had to will himself not to faint as a pit of terror settled in his stomach while he stared at the only evidence of what happened to the girl he loved. With a sense of anger flaring inside him, he stood just outside the door, barely registering Kichiro telling him they needed to get down to the lobby to direct the police to the scene of what must now certainly be a murder._

 _"I'll find her." Daisuke whispered as Kichiro's surprisingly firm grip led him outside. "I'll always find her."_

* * *

Rintarou was powerless.

That was how it felt. As he sat before his tablet, lines snaked through the page in quiet elegance. From the inky strokes, vibrant hues seeped out as if by watercolor, filling in the shapes that formed on the page in a style eerily similar to Rintarou's own.

He refused to believe it. Perhaps it was remote screen control, and somewhere someone was drawing out their own vision of _Livewyre_. But no human being could draw and ink and color this fast. So if no one else was drawing this, then _how_ could this possibly be happening, as if his characters suddenly . . . decided to get minds of their own?

He watched further, eyes wide and horrified as an entirely new story unfolded before him. The lines began by inking out Nanami and panning into a flashback of her, Ema, and Ryuji in middle school, and Rintarou watched as even _speech bubbles_ filled themselves in (" _You kissed her good night?!_ " his characters cried in shock and without his permission, and they even used the same speech bubbles he would have chosen for the moment). He watched Daisuke and Kichiro creep through the fourteenth room on the thirteenth floor and finally, he watched them stumble upon the pool of Ema's now-dried blood (so by his calculations, it had been three days in the _Livewyre_ world and only here since the last unintended upload).

And finally, his heart stopped as the lines panned into Daisuke's face, devastated yet handsome in all his determination, seeming more alive than Rintarou had ever managed to draw him. The lines finally finished their journey and the last of the color in Daisuke's eyes filled in, while the text stamped itself onto the final text box:

 _'I'll find her. I'll always find her.'_

And with that, the lines finished the period at the end of the sentence with almost a violent finality, as if they were satisfied at all the trouble they were putting Rintarou through, and a popup box flashed onto the screen.

 **Auto-uploading . . .**

"No!" Rintarou spat out his drink and slammed forward onto the desk, slapping the keyboard in aggressive panic. "No, no, no, no, where's the stop button—"

 **Auto-upload complete!**

Rintarou truly didn't know how long he sat there after. It could have been hours, it could have been days, it could have been years. But what he did know was that, as if by a ghost's hand, a new chapter had drawn itself and auto-uploaded itself within the course of five minutes. He also knew that it was long enough for his editor to call him, weeping again at his "recklessness for uploading another chapter without checking in," and for him to hang up in a daze. It was long enough for the forums to explode with new theories and for his triplet stepsons to call him in confusion.

By the time he'd recovered from his stupor, he'd poured himself another drink. Fine. If this was the way the universe wanted to play him, he'd fight back. Scrolling to the top of the now-published, self-drawn chapter, he gave a small, wry smile at the title.

 _LIVEWYRE / Chapter 35: I'll Find You._

* * *

 _one week later._

* * *

Ema's head was on fire. Not like a campfire, but like a thousand suns had decided to nest themselves into her entire brain. An ache in her stomach made her simultaneously nauseous and heated at the same time. Her eyes creaked open.

Hospital lights? That could be the only explanation, besides the thousand suns, as to why there was an obnoxiously bright light blinding her. Her eyes slid open further. Yes, hospital lights. But where? The last she remembered she was . . . dying. Dying in a suite.

She took the fact with far more frankness than she thought she would. She lay on the scratchy hospital bed, wiggling her fingers and toes to make sure nothing was too badly damaged, staring at the ceiling with blank contemplation.

"Hello, dear," came a voice, and Ema turned her head slowly to the nurse. "You're up."

"Hm."

The nurse straighted out Ema's bedsheets, and the heiress tensed at the feeling of the white linen tightening arond her ribcage . . . or rather, just beneath it. Did she really get _stabbed_ the same way as the others? Why was she spared?

"The doctor has had you on a drip for the past week since you came here, and you've been in excellent health. You should be open to visitors now."

"I don't need visitors," Ema croaked, her own voice sounding hoarse in her ears. "I just need you to call my bodyguard, please. His name is Shinozuka Daisuke."

To her surprise, the nurse laughed. "My! You really have a good sense of humor, don't you, even after all this? May I take your name, sweetheart? You've been entered as a Jane Doe for the past week."

"Chiyaka Ema. But that's not important; I need you to call my bodyguard—"

"Shinozuka Daisuke. Yes." The nurse's smile faded. "I'm sorry, you said again that your name was . . . ?"

"Chiyaka Ema." Ema eyed the nurse wearily. Did that name mean something to her? The nervous energy in the room was getting to her, and Ema's keen eyes noted potential weapons. A syringe by the door. The heavy IV stand. The flower vase on her nightstand.

"Right, Miss . . . Chiyaka. And I don't suppose you know anyone named Akamine Nanami? Or Kaiba Ryuji?"

"Yes, I do!" Ema felt relief seeping into her. "Do you know them? Can you call them? They can get in touch with Daisuke, or maybe my secretary—"

"Your secretary, Aisaka Kichiro?"

Ema paused, suspicious again. "Yes. My secretary, Aisaka Kichiro. And I don't suppose you'd know the name of my childhood friend?"

"Ritsurisu Juli. Yes. Excuse me."

With a forced smile frozen to her face, the nurse backed out the door, leaving Ema alone again.

* * *

"She thinks she's in _Livewyre_ ," the nurse hissed at the doctor outside her hospital room. "I asked for a name and she said _Chiyaka Ema_. She wanted me to call her _bodyguard_. And she said her bodyguard's name was Shinozuka Daisuke. I think we need to get her looked at—"

"What's going on?"

The pair jumped at the new arrivals. It seemed nearly half of the family of the fainted Asahina had come to give their well wishes to the young woman, and the nurse blushed at what must have seemed to them like her gossiping.

"The girl doesn't seem to be stable," the doctor explained. "It may be that she was so used to be a joker and pretended to be Chiyaka Ema before she got stabbed, or it could be that she's subconsciously heard everyone talking about _Livewyre_ during this past week since Chapter 35's release, but she believes it."

"She does?" The man whom the nurse and doctor recognized as Azusa asked. "So she's awake?"

"Yes, she's awake."

"Then in that case," said a tall, blond male with glasses. "Is she accepting visitors? We would like to speak with her."

"She is, but you need to be sure not to aggravate her," the doctor cautioned. "She was stabbed _three times_. There's no way she could bounce back from that so quickly. And if you can try to identify her, please do. We're all at a loss as to who to contact besides her . . . bodyguard."

"Of course," Masaomi interjected, still looking pale and clammy. With a smile, he reached for the door handle. "We'll be careful."

* * *

 **There it is, the next chapter. Maybe eventually I'll get better at updating.**

 **If you'd like a better visual for the lines "drawing themselves," feel free to go take a look at the opening intro for _Mulan_. That's pretty much exactly what I envisioned, if you'd like something more concrete! Furthermore, I'm searching for a beta who can chat with me on Discord or Skype. It's not so much beta-ing as it is someone who I can talk to about ideas for current and future stories, and somebody who shares my idea that Ema deserves the best no matter who she receives it with. You'll likely receive some spoilers, but you'll also get early access to my chapters! Please message me if you're interested.**

 **Your reviews keep my muse flowing— thank you for reading this chapter, and be sure to let me hear your thoughts!**


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